


GONER

by sunsource



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, SAD VERY SAD, also kinda cute, perhaps smut?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29929758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsource/pseuds/sunsource
Summary: George and Dream, forever and ever until the sun sets, because then, Dream would need to go back to his abusive household, and George would wait for his good night text at his loving home.They'll be okay.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 2





	GONER

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everyone who's ever supported me](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=everyone+who%27s+ever+supported+me).



It was the year 2014, and George would wake up to the glow-in-the-dark stars that scattered his high ceiling. He bolted up, staring at his alarm clock with a deep-set grin. Today, he would make history.

He'd brush his teeth with such carelessness that he'd forget to wash his face and make his hair lay flat. Even his mother, a beautiful woman in her 30's, who always made him an extra-sweet cup of coffee in the morning with the same beauty mark above her lip and old 1980's workout clothes, had forgotten to tell him to tie his laces before kissing his forehead and waving goodbye as she watched him set off into the beauty that was the streets of Portland, Oregon on his orange-blue bike.

"Bye, sweetheart! Make sure to tell me everything when you come home!" 

He'd wave in response and continue to pedal on, watching with care at the daily scenery the streets around would feed him. Up ahead, the warm smell of Jun & Jannie's; a very bright, popular bakery owned by the two town sweethearts from their high school years in the 1940s. Wind waving through his thick, charcoal black hair, George inhaled, and once he opened his eyes, he'd been in front of a big, beautiful school. It had white columns around the front, and quite frankly, looked like a downgrade from Hogwarts. No _wonder_ George had such opportunities.

And so he'd park his bike, not needing to lock it because the neighborhood was so crazily romanticized nobody dared touch the reputation of it. He would run in from the two wide front doors of the high school and stare at the inside. It was full of bickering students, footstep patters filtering his ears. Then, he'd run down the hallway and up to two large spiral staircases in the right-wing to reach his favorite psychology teacher. 

"George! Thank god, I thought we lost you for a second." A soft, nasally voice spoke; Mrs. Beth. She was a delicate woman with beautiful collarbones and very prominent veins, specifically one that drew right up the side of her neck. George would know this, of course, because he'd kiss it whilst he'd hold her hips and unclip her brown hair. 

He gave a smile and got a rather professional one in return. "George, meet Clay Evans, the son of our new town mayor, Clark Evans." 

He would flicker his eyes to the boy in front of him and bring us to the present. Tough, grey pupils would strike a conversation with his own, and it felt like his facade had to toughen, just to please _him_. "Welcome to the Academy of Portland, Clay. My name is George, and I'll be your guide for the next week." He spoke clearly, head held high as he eyed the boy in front of him.

What George got in return was a hum, like an I-don't-really-care-I-don't-wanna-be-here, kind of hum. However, the specks in Clay's eyes seemed buoyant. Dirty blonde hair with thick, brown eyebrows and a tall, slender figure. Hands dug into his front pockets, he began to eye George up and down, going from the curve of his stylish bed-head to the slender ankles and soles of his untied shoes. After George had gotten the nonchalant reply, he began to speak, almost as if off of a script.

"Founded in 1922, TAOP has been a great achievement for Portland, and every kid in, and around our community has tried very hard to get in. Our GPA as of the moment is 4.11, and though a point lower than last years, continues to be-"

"Yeah, I get it. The school is prestigious. Anything else?" 

George was rather offended, and his face scrunched up distastefully. As his mouth opened in an effort to retort, Mrs. Beth let a hollow chuckle interrupt, "Please give us a moment, Mr. Evans." She followed by George's hand and leading him to her office right beside Clay. She closed the door behind him. 

"This is your big opportunity, George, don't mess it up because you want to be smart." She sighed, staring back at him as she pulled her tight, black uniform skirt down on both sides, shimmying. One end of George's mouth leads up into a sweet snicker, "Sorry, Ms. Beth." 

" _Mrs._ Beth, George. I'm still your teacher." 

This was, in fact, true. George knew it, too. He just liked disrespecting her in front of others the way he did when he fucked her for the grades. What could he say? The minor effort landed him an internship at the Suicide Helpline. Fucking your psychology teacher had its benefits. " _Mrs._ Beth, sorry ma'am," he spoke, straightening up. "Right. You've earned your spot in this. Watch your mouth." 

"Got it." 

"Please?"

"Alright, _fine,_ I won't say anything that might scare him off like I did last year's recruits and you had to cover for me. Happy?" George's thin eyebrows rose, and Mrs. Beth smiled. "Yes. You may leave." 

As he made his way toward the door and passed his teacher, he reached his hand out and held the fabric of her skirt. "You buy this? Feels expensive." He leaned close into her ear, "You'd look better without it." squeezing her hip before walking out the room and closing the door loudly behind him. 

Then, he stared at what was in front of him. 

"You fuck your _psychology teacher?"_ Spoke Clay, staring at him in mild disbelief. George, however, continued to walk in front of him as he trailed behind. He began to show him the grand 3rd-floor statue of the school's first founder. "She's got nice tits. Now, this is our sacred statue. Vandalize it, get expelled. Touch it, get expelled, look at it wrong, get expelled." 

Clay looked like he was having a rather sweet time. "Alright. Anything a bit more interesting?" He walked closer, inching toward the ravenette. George's mild eyes looked harshly into the blonde's, and he poured a sour smile.

"Yes," He spoke, sickeningly sweet as his finger touched the tip of Clay's chin. He leaned in, staring into his deep-set, clouded eyes. 

"Look at me wrong, get expelled." 


End file.
